


Where Angels Fear to Tread

by levitatethis



Category: Lost, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-28
Updated: 2009-11-28
Packaged: 2017-10-06 19:16:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sayid finds himself in a very difficult situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Angels Fear to Tread

_“The two boys faced each other. There was the brilliant world of hunting, tactics, fierce exhilaration, skill; and there was the world of longing and baffled common sense.” _   
**-Lord of the Rings by William Golding **

_“The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.” _   
**-William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice (_Act I, Scene III_) **

 

To Sayid's eyes he seems like little more than a man.

Unassuming is a fair description of the stranger near the back wall of the busy restaurant--blonde hair, handsome but not striking features with a medium build and height that announces nothing special. And Sayid can't take his eyes off of him.

It is a returned favour since Sayid has felt the man's penetrating gaze scrutinizing his every move since entering the bustling locale. Amidst the flowing walls of human shapes, moving to and fro; beyond the deafening din of sharp laughter, heated conversations and euphoric cheers, Sayid's somber and self-imposed demeanor of isolation proves as magnetic as it is protective.

Most people who move past the bar where he sits purposely avoid making uninvited physical contact, although a brief exchange of eye contact does elicit mutual nods of respect that confirm attempts at small talk are not necessary. But the stranger is different.  
   
Sayid first spotted his observant reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Caught off guard at first, Sayid held the gaze (taking a small sip of his drink) until he realized that the man had no intention of looking away.

Now, putting his glass down, Sayid turns in his seat, momentarily shifting his attention to the crowd of people littering the immediate area, then settles his attention on the back wall.

The man is still there, watching with a bemused smile.

It has been years since Sayid has felt constricted and inhibited by another person without a finger being put on him. It's unnerving, and absolutely fascinating. With his curiosity piqued, Sayid considers ignoring the man, approaching him or encouraging him to cross the floor and introduce himself (forcing him to walk into Sayid's territorial space).

A remembrance of Nadia, laughing and leaning into him while resting her left hand on the back of his neck, flashes through his mind. He can hear her teasing, _“Maybe he'd like to buy you a drink. It's good to know that you have options in this world.”   
_  
Jokes aside, the vibe Sayid is getting is not one of carnal interest but something all together more troublesome. He turns back towards the bar, shifting the weight of his leather jacket with his shoulders. Looking down at his drink he fingers the glass with his left hand, rubbing his index finger around the rim. He swallows hard as worrisome thoughts swirl rapidly in his mind, threatening to overwhelm and turn him into the person he has tried repeatedly to bury or at least outrun.

Huffing a quiet sigh, Sayid glances up to the mirror. The man is gone.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

“Sayid, the greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he didn't exist. And like that--he was gone.”

 

************ ********** ********** ********** **********   
**

Cautiously Sayid holds his ground and levels an unwavering gaze forward. It is pertinent that he does not show signs of retreat, making sure to mask even the smallest hints of submission. He folds his arms across his chest and angles his head back, establishing a show of stoic defiance.

“I do not believe in the Devil,” Sayid says.

“Of course not,” the blonde hair and blue-eyed man grins, disconcertingly more charming up close than across a busy space. “That's the point. But_ I am here_, in the flesh and _very_ pleased to meet _you_.”

During the three months since Sayid first spotted the man--_Lucifer_\--in the restaurant, he has tried to stay on point with his life, continuing the charity work he began (in Nadia's name and for his own peace of mind) months after he extracted himself out from under Ben's very controlling and unforgiving thumb.

It was double duty to say the least--focused do-gooder by day and nightmare plagued city crawler by night, anxious to close his eyes and have his mind turn against him. Matters had been made worse in the last couple of weeks by the unexpected glimpses of the man who now stands before him so nonchalantly.

The ease with which he ingratiated himself is practically tactical. Sayid doesn't like it one bit.

For a few weeks he kept thinking he was either being followed by one of Ben's men or was hallucinating the stalking, and then one day the 'perfect stranger' was one of the new volunteers on the Habitat for Humanity project. He stayed a respectable distance from Sayid, who in turn made sure to keep his guard up and senses on high alert to keep track of the newest volunteer at all times, but slowly and with a fluidity Sayid can't help but admire, he was at Sayid's side, like a right hand man, offering up small talk and what seemed like generic conversation at the time.

Now after a long day, Sayid finds himself trying to figure out if the bombshell that has been dropped is a terrible joke or something truly sinister. He watches Lucifer reach down for the drink on the table and then tip it towards Sayid, gesturing the question, _would you like a drink?_

“No thank you,” Sayid replies firmly.

Lucifer shrugs and sits down, pointing his free hand at the other chair. “Suit yourself. Have a seat.”

“I'd prefer to stand.”

Lucifer looks at him, unfazed. “I think you're going to want to sit down for this.” Underneath the table he kicks out the empty chair.

After a moments hesitation, during which weighed options provide no direction, Sayid reluctantly sits down stiffly; his back straight and shoulders squared, arms on the table. He waits.

Lucifer regards him closely with a bare hint of a smile twitching up the corners of his lips. Raising his drink and hovering it over his lips he jokes, “Contrary to popular opinion, I don't bite.”

Sayid doesn't crack a smile, but narrows his eyes inquisitively as he leans back in the chair.

“The strong and silent type,” Lucifer muses. “How much do you want to kick my ass right now?”

“I do not like being followed,” Sayid states coolly, trying to keep his more confused and conflicted thoughts under wraps.

Lucifer puts his drink down. “You should see it for the compliment it is. I save the personal visits for the most special.” He spreads his arms out. “Take Nick here. Poor guy was a bit of a mess, with no help from God, until I gave him a helping hand and freed him from his own hell on earth.”

Sayid bristles at the suggestion of possession, curling his right hand into a fist. Although he does not believe in it, it still reminds him of the lack of personal control that pervaded his stint as a soldier in the Republican Guard, serving as one part of a nameless entity that was under the puppetry manhandling of a higher order. He hated it then, fighting himself just to survive.

Lucifer's eyes flit down to his tension filled fist. “Don't worry.” He returns Sayid's gaze. “I like you just the way you are, already fully formed.”

Bitter distaste dries out Sayid's mouth. To have the man across from him claiming that the body he is in belonged once to another should be a red flag of severe mental health, but with everything Sayid has been witness to he thinks it would be a greater disservice to act completely dismissive without ascertaining answers first.

He leans forward and with a tinge of cruel amusement asks, “Do you truly expect me to believe you are the Devil? _Lucifer_?”

“Truly?” Lucifer sounds out the word jovially. “Truly--tell me, do you still pray?”

Sayid wrinkles his brow contemplatively. “Yes.”

Lucifer leans forward. “Why? What has He done for you lately? You've lost those you love, you are alone in every way a person can be, and tormented by a past that refuses to give you up. From where I'm sitting God hasn't had your back in a very long time, if ever.”

“And you do?” Sayid asks before he can consider the near ridiculousness of the situation.

“I'm here aren't I?”

“Somehow I don't think my well being is your primary objective.”

“That's very cynical of you and not at all true.” Lucifer shakes his head.

“Then why are you here?” Sayid asks point blank. “Why have you been following me, working your way into my life?”

“To know you better,” is Lucifer's casual rely and he rests his elbows on the table. “To make sure.”

“Of what?”

“That you're ready.”

Sayid takes a second to consider what Lucifer means by his runaround way of answering questions. “Your rather vague way of speaking is not doing you any favours with me.”

It is a challenge to Lucifer to put the cards on the table and get to the heart of what is sparking the potentially volatile air between them. Not knowing has always been far worse a state of being for Sayid than dealing with the worst that life has to offer.

Lucifer purses his lips, sucking in his cheeks, and says, “My time in this body is not for long. It's simply a means to an end.”

Sayid questioningly raises an eyebrow and Lucifer adds more emphatically, “And the end is nigh.”

Despite the earlier denial, Sayid immediately tenses at the implication that this being is after him for something far beyond Sayid's mental grasp. “If not this body…”

“His name is Sam Winchester and _this_ is his destiny.”

Sayid considers the statement and recalls a time when orders were imposed on him in the name of duty and service. As much as he doesn't want to believe who this man is, he carries himself with an assured certainty that makes it difficult to think otherwise. For the sake of making their conversation easier to follow (if still utterly bizarre), Sayid wills himself to accept strange elements as truth.

“And I am to be his keeper until the time of transfer comes and then your right hand afterwards?” Sayid mutes his incredulousness.

“See,” Lucifer points at him before tapping his own head. “I knew you were a smart one.”

Ignoring the compliment and trying not to get sidetracked, Sayid plays it cool. “And why would I be willing to help you?”

Lucifer furrows his brow. “Why wouldn't you? Is this existence you're living really the life you deserve?”

With a steady gaze, Sayid makes sure he has Lucifer's undivided attention, waiting until he decides better of taking another sip of his drink.

“I may not live in the fear of God,” Sayid states, “But I am hardly delusional about how you operate.”

“God,” Lucifer scoffs. “The one you humans revere so blindly who checked out long ago. God's already left the building.”

“And you're here to pick up all the pieces?”

“I'm here to right the wrongs--_His_ wrongs that I've had to suffer for!”

Sayid tilts his head down and to the side. “You believe yourself to be the savior of mankind?” His disbelief is unconcealed.

“I'm not here to save any of you,” Lucifer argues and Sayid can hear the distasteful reference to humanity in his tone. “You're still so brainwashed after everything I've done.”

“Which is what exactly?” Sayid counters, tightly gripping the sides of the table. “What is your impressive claim to fame besides every horror that has been visited upon this world since its inception?”

“Don't believe the hype.” Lucifer glares and downs a quick shot of his drink. “Look at the bigger picture. What have I done? Besides refusing to follow His lead and idolize that which was flawed and ridiculous? That which He treated as perfection--and we know what a lie that was. He did too but by then he simply wanted to wash his hands of all of you, let you wipe yourselves out so he could walk away. But I'm here to clean it up and turn this world into what it was always meant to be.”

Lucifer holds his hand up in a halting gesture when Sayid begins to speak.

“What have I done?” Lucifer repeats. “Besides bestow knowledge on you when He wished you ignorant? He put all these rules in place next to temptations but gave you no allowance to discover any of it. _I_ let you all understand your lot in life, the predicament of your existence.”

“Is that a good thing?” Sayid questions sternly.

“I gave you passion,” Lucifer raises his voice, the intensity behind his words visceral. “I made you feel, want, need, demand, risk, love so hard that you'd be willing to die for it. Now _that's_ beautiful.”

Sayid wishes the argument was less logical and therefore within his ability to argue against coherently. As it is he reminds himself that there is a method to the madness of mass destruction, yet all he can bring himself to say is, “Is that so?”

Lucifer lowers his voice and conversationally asks, “Can you honestly tell me that if you had Nadia back you would be fine going through the motions of bland and uneventful domesticity--without the urgent desire to see her every moment that you're apart, to taste her and wrap your body around hers? You'd be fine to never raise your voice in ecstasy or frustration, to never have her argue a point with you until she can barely keep her hands to herself?”

“Do _not_ talk about her.” Sayid practically seethes, defensively on his heels as Nadia's name is tossed in his face.

Lucifer pauses, then holds up his hands apologetically. “No disrespect intended, just making a point. You see you,” he scoots his chair partway around the table and leans in close, “are beyond these _trappings_ He's set in place. You were playthings for him that he was stupidly willing to go to war for and toss aside everything we already had. He's not fighting this war anymore. His few remaining loyalists are, but even their ranks are dropping. The time has come to finally get back on track.”

“You are talking about subjugation.” Sayid tries to clarify the mess of thoughts in his head. “You want to debase us all, make us lose our minds, lose sight of you, be your minions.”

“That's crazy talk,” Lucifer says with a low voice. “Subjugation is only used in matters with which there is no other recourse.”

“Not exactly all-forgiving,” Sayid comments harshly.

Lucifer sits up tall. “Like Him? So compassionate? Is that why your life--like so many others--has been filled with such pain? Because he loves you all too much? I want you _humans_ to feel your own strengths and weaknesses; not deny them but revel in them, not play ignorant.”

“Die by them.”

“That too,” Lucifer admits with a shrug. “But isn't that part of being human? To live each day knowing it could be your last? Isn't that part of the thrill?”

“We have differing opinions on excitement,” Sayid half lies, knowing all too well the disturbing rush of blood that comes with being on the brink of death, fighting for his life with every ounce of his being, feeling it slipping away each cell and sense at a time, separating from his body and knowing in _that_ moment what the cost of existing, of wanting to keep breathing is.

He knows what it's like to love someone so much that it skirts the fine line between overwhelming euphoria and heart wrenching torture. With Nadia, his mind was set free of every hurt that had lay claim to his life. His body was neurons sparked on fire and being inside her--in bed, up against the living room wall, on the kitchen table with breakfast swept to the floor--was the closest thing to perfection Sayid had ever felt. He knew it at the time. Losing her (again) only made his love--their love--their fatalistic loss all the more painfully real.

“Sure we do,” Lucifer replies unconvincingly as he shifts his chair back a few inches.

Sayid fixes him with an unblinking stare. “You imagine that because my life has been so very complicated that I am of the same mind that would allow destruction to reign, to prove we are indeed no better.”

Sayid wills his chair forward a few inches, pushing slightly in Lucifer's space. “You assume I am as culpable as you need me to be based on circumstances that demanded I make unbelievable decisions, that my frustrations can be transferred to your cause with impunity. You expect--,”

“I expect you to use your free will. I expect you to follow what you believe based on your gut instinct, screw right or wrong. What do you _feel_?”

_What don't I feel?_ Sayid thinks. _I have done horrific things but not out of a desire to hurt or destroy, at least not all the time. I have done it when no other options were granted, when doing the right thing meant I was forced to sacrifice the part of me still worth something good. I tried so hard but sometimes I had to...it wasn't easier, but it was…because I knew I could do it and follow through. That is the life I've been given and it's the one I have struggled with, for good and bad. I don't know what's good anymore, only that it's not black and white and it's never been. And I don't know how much more of this life I can take.   
_  
“I know,” Lucifer says suddenly.

Sayid's eyes widen in surprise. “You know what?” he asks.

Lucifer smiles sympathetically. “Everything.”

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Sayid tosses and turns his regrets and uncertainties, the worry that unfairly continues to inform a life already beset with difficulties.

He has been afforded space to consider what the future brings him as it waits, looming on a distant horizon that steadily approaches.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

“Does Sam know of this plan you have for him?”

“Yes, he's been informed.”

“And?”

“…he's coming to terms with what has been intended for him since his humble beginning.”

“You mean he's resistant. I will not coerce him into doing your bidding.”

“That won't be necessary. He understands; he just doesn't know it yet. But you would be an incredible asset to him in these trying times; distant but compassionate, it's a welcome mix. Without you…I'd hate to think of the alternatives.”

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Sayid's hand won't be forced but the direction he realizes he is leaning in is cause for concern. On the grand scale of things it induces a weary feeling of disappointment in himself, but more for the trouble he knows comes tied with Armageddon on the verge.

He has made a life out of hard decisions, and even ones that have woken him in a cold sweat on countless nights have informed who he is and who he wishes to be.

He wonders if intentions are worth nothing the more he uses good ones to justify bad actions. Is there a point where the act negates the intent?

And if so, would he recognize it?

Lucifer's words haunt the darkest corners of his mind, they whisper goosebumps along his skin and prickle the hairs on his neck. He pervades Sayid's life and Sayid wishes that God and Lucifer were only fairytales meant to be told before bedtime for nothing else but childhood entertainment. Reality is cruel and Sayid has had just about as much as he can take.

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

“He has a brother?”

“Dean, working on the side of those angels who still think that God cares about any of this.”

“Have you seriously set up brother against brother at the end of the world?”

“Hey, it wasn't just me. You know you humans always sugar coat the fact that God can be a total dick when he wants to. Why am I the only one remembered that way? Give credit where credit's due.”

“If it's not Cain and Abel--,”

“Brother against brother is always poetic.”

“You really think Dean will try to kill Sam?”

“_Try_ being the operative word. But Castiel…”

“Castiel?”

“That's a story best saved for another time. Let's just say he's managed to get himself into a pickle with his half of the Winchester brotherhood.”

“Whereas Sam--,”

“Will have you to keep him grounded.”

“Until you take it all away.”

“Sayid, your defiant resistance is commendable…and presumably a burden. Let go and imagine the true freedom that comes from such liberation.”

“There is no liberation in occupation.”

“And there is no freedom in a shackled existence.”

 

************ ********** ********** ********** ********** **

 

Long after closing time, Sayid watches Sam from a safe distance and obscured spot in the bar's parking lot.

He is quite tall and looks younger than Sayid expected. As Sam carries the night's accumulation of trash to the dumpster at the side (and near the back) of the establishment, Sayid watches the way he handles himself. Although he has a solid build and natural presence due to his tall stature, the fact that he keeps his head down speaks of trying to diminish any attention cast his way. It is a contradiction that brings a broken smile to Sayid's face. It's so _human_.

Sayid leans forward and rests his arms on the roof of the car in front of him. He notes how Sam, once he has tossed the garbage away, pauses and stares into the darkness that surrounds him, as if sensing things are amiss or preparing for them to be.

He looks too innocent for this life but given what Sayid has read up on him, looks _are_ deceiving. For a moment when he looks at Sam he recognizes someone not far removed from himself--trying to live a good life, a decent one, in the face of a tornado of adversity demanding a pound of flesh.

Sayid's stomach clenches as he senses Lucifer's sudden presence then sees the man with his peripheral vision stand next to him.

Sayid glances to the side as Lucifer nods in Sam's direction and says, “What do you think?”

Gazing straight ahead again, Sayid wonders how it is that Sam has become the key figure in this grand battle. Educated and wise to the darker demands of the world, to be sure, but so young and still very much reeling from a lonely life and an estranged brother who should be his keeper not his potential murderer.

A sting of sympathy strikes through Sayid and all he wants is to protect him, find a way to get them both out of this awful predicament. But one of the problems that comes with being the dependable go-to guys who can get things done is that expectations force them to get involved, to face the fire brimming high and not turn their backs.

Sayid knows now that Sam will need him and with what's coming Sayid is certain he will need him right back. But at the moment that feels a lifetime away while still pressing in with excruciating urgency. It is all too rushed and in need of a calming breath.

The world hangs in the balance, and Sam--

To Sayid's eyes he seems like little more than a man.   
 


End file.
